


Soldier Barbie and Kitchen Ken

by AvaKelly



Series: Bits and Pieces [21]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Getting Together, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M, Oblivious, Pining, Steve is a little shit, hungry bucky, smooth steeb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 10:38:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6563017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaKelly/pseuds/AvaKelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coffee's warm, so it counts as a meal, right?</p><p>Maybe he should stock something other than instant ramen and stale apples in his kitchen. But hey, apples are healthy. And ramen has carbs, carbs turn to energ--why is the path tilting? Where'd the sun go...</p><p>[<a href="http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com/post/142056665352/what-i-really-want-is-an-au-where-steves-this">source & inspiration</a>]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldier Barbie and Kitchen Ken

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone.  
> Here's a Stucky bit for y'all. Let me know what you think :)  
> Thank you for reading! o/  
> ~  
> All the thanks to [the poster](http://brickhousebuck.tumblr.com) who wrote this, to [Catnip](http://catnipandjaegerpilots.tumblr.com/) for turning my attention to it, and to [Hraf](http://hrafnsvaengr.tumblr.com/) who spent a lot of time beta'ing this. You can find it on tumblr [here](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com/post/142855860837/soldier-barbie-and-kitchen-ken).  
> ~  
> [Dragonland.](http://intermittently-ava.tumblr.com/)

Bucky stretches his arms above his head as he inhales the morning air. The park is scattered with old trees that make everything fresh and cool in the late spring weather that beckons to the arrival of summer. Morning runs here are the best, and Bucky starts slow on his favorite path. Right on cue, Ken comes up from behind only to pass Bucky in a rush, like he always does. Every other day when Bucky runs here, it's his ten laps versus Ken's twenty.

Well, he isn't Ken, Bucky has no idea of the guy's name. He just knows that Ken looks fresh out of the box, perfectly chiseled and blue-eyed even with a sheen of sweat at his hairline. Unlike Bucky's unkempt self. But, ever since his discharge Bucky's been enjoying living his days contrary to the military style he'd been following for years. Agh, who's he kidding, he still wakes up before five in the morning, and it's not because of the lingering pain in his left arm where shrapnel used to be. Now there are only scars. He's still doing his best to exercise regularly. Running three days a week, PT on weekends, although he doesn't really need it anymore. But the guys at the center are fun to hang with, Sam especially.

Everything else though? Fuck routine. It's fortunate that his class schedule at the local college is so hectic. Keeps him on his toes. Oh, and then there's the hair. Bucky is entirely too pleased with the way the tips of his long strands brush his shoulders, the way it falls messily around his face. The scruff, not so much, but some days he just shrugs and scratches his fingernails through it, listening to the rough sound while remembering with a smile how his drill sergeant used to yell about shaving.

Bucky's happy with himself as it is, but when he looks at perfect Ken, the words of his well thought out opening line die a swift death on his lips. Ugh, one of these days Bucky's gonna have to take a deep breath and tell him _'Morning, doll'_ and _'Fancy a dance?'_ cos Bucky's a 40's buff. Addict, as Sam corrects him, but meh. Tomato, potato, and all kinds of pineapple.

With a gush of air, Ken runs past again, and fuck Bucky, the man smells divine. His heart flutters in his chest, as he wonders what would it be like to talk for hours over tea, and the sweet pang travels down to coil in his stomach until it turns into a loud rumble that's more painful than pleasant.

He's hungry, but he needs to finish his run before... oh, he has class early today. Maybe he can grab a bagel on the way there, if he skips the shower. Bucky's not gonna skip the shower. At least he had that coffee an hour ago, and he can grab one again from the machine outside the lecture hall.

Coffee's warm, so it counts as a meal, right?

Maybe he should stock something other than instant ramen and stale apples in his kitchen. But hey, apples are healthy. And ramen has carbs, carbs turn to energ--why is the path tilting? Where'd the sun go...

~

Bucky floats, surrounded by softness, and he sighs at the gentleness of fingertips on his forehead. He blinks his eyes against the light as it flickers with the movement of leaves above his head, only to be replaced by Ken's worried face.

"Are you ok? Does it hurt anywhere?"

And the fingertips start pressing lightly onto Bucky's chest, then lower on his ribs, driving a giggle out of Bucky.

"Don't move," Ken says, "you might have a concussion."

Bucky inhales sharply and checks himself. He knows what a concussion feels like, so clearly it's not that. His stomach gives another pang and there's a tremble in his limbs that seems to generate from his bones.

 _Fuck_. He should pay more attention to what and when he eats.

"No, no," he tells Ken, and what a crappy first impression he's made, "just need food."

He tries to sit up, but Ken's face swims before him and Bucky leans back down. At least Ken's thigh is warm. Mh, he hadn't thought he'd get close to _that_ any time soon...

"Are you sure you're not hurt?" Ken says, distracting Bucky from his already distracting thoughts.

"Sure," he mumbles. "Been a while since I ate properly, so here I am. Fainting like a dame."

A snort comes, and boy does Ken looks _beautiful_ when he smiles. But then Ken's eyebrows knit in a frown, his mouth opening in that way that signals an oncoming lecture. Bucky's quite used to that from Sam already, he doesn't need one from the stranger he's been crushing on for the past few months, thank you very much.

"I'm good," Bucky says before Ken can utter a word, which earns him a scowl.

So he busies himself with shifting to sit up in the grass instead of thinking about how he's blown any remote chance he might have had to convince Ken to join him on a date.

"Yeah," Ken returns, crossing his arms, "the healthy rosy color in your cheeks is proof of that."

Bucky squints his eyes. Pretty _and_ sarcastic. Fuck, he's in love.

"Why, thank you," he mumbles, unable to come up with anything better because hungry bodies equal hungry brains. Apparently.

Just then, his stomach decides to add its two cents to the matter, giving a very loud and clear rumble, demanding some form of feeding, _and soon_. Bucky sways a little. He's quite sure that by now his cheeks have indeed turned red. From the embarrassment, no doubt, that he'll feel for weeks on end.

Ken's hands wrap themselves around Bucky's shoulders. Oh, that feels good, and Bucky blinks at the determined set of Ken's face. Oops, he feels like he should be sorry about something. But what...

"That's it, I'm feeding you, get up."

Bucky's impending giggle is thankfully thwarted by him being hauled to his feet and then nudged along the path. Bucky leans into the warmth holding his up, a strong arm around his middle. It's feels like they're on a casual stroll, something Bucky would gladly take a dose or two of every day.

They're almost out of the park when Bucky's brain decides to come back online for a brief moment.

"Hold up," he says. "Ken, where are you taking me?"

Being wary of strangers, no matter how handsome, is something ingrained in his very core.

"Did you just call me Ken?" the guy turns wide blue eyes at Bucky.

That's beside the point, the point is where are they going and is Bucky going to end up as food instead.

"Yeah, like a Ken doll, cos you're a doll," Bucky smirks, then proceeds to smack a palm over his mouth.

Gah, brain offline again it seems, but Ken laughs suddenly, full and even more beautiful.

"Name's Steve," he returns when he manages to keep his mirth under control.

Bucky's pretty sure he's sporting his stupid smile by now, but Steve doesn't seem to mind, because he leans closer, lips curled in a smirk, too mischievous to not give Bucky butterflies.

"I work at a restaurant nearby, so that's where we're going," Steve says, " _Barbie_."

It takes a few blinks, but Bucky finally chokes on his spit at that, while Steve laughs again.

"If you wanna call a scarred and scruffy vet Barbie, go ahead," Bucky mumbles, suddenly too aware of himself.

"Hey," Steve squeezes Bucky tighter against himself instead of pushing away, "if you wanna call an asthmatic guy with all the allergies Ken, then I can call the handsome vet I've been trying to impress for the past months whatever I want."

Impress? Bucky?

"But why?"

Ah, fuck. He's just said that out loud.

But Steve grins. "Cos," he says, utterly uninformative.

Bucky's stomach rebels again, which sends Steve back to dragging Bucky along on the sidewalk. It makes him feel a little better that Steve's not as perfect as he seems, but it also makes Bucky a little bit more in love with him.

"So what do I call you?" Steve asks between turning corners through back streets.

"Bucky."

"That's not much different than Barbie," Steve snickers and Bucky pokes him in the ribs, albeit too weakly to even bother Steve.

"Fucking punk," he mutters.

Soon they stop in front of a back door to a restaurant, which Steve assures Bucky is closed today, and that nobody will mind them using the kitchen and a corner table for a while.

~

Ohfrick, ohfrick, ohfrick, ohfrick!

The man from the park is in Steve's restaurant, the very same man that made Steve close down shop three lunches a week so that they can run at the same time. It's been going on for too long, but thankfully Peggy's stopped grumbling about it, since it seems to have increased the reservation demands for The Shield. His sous-chefs, Nat and Clint, have been laughing at him in between berating the time off. Steve can't assure them enough that they're still getting paid as usual.

Today is one of those days. Everyone's scheduled to start arriving in an hour or so, to start preparing for the dinner crowd, so that gives Steve enough time to cook something quick and nutritious for Bucky.

Bucky. He finally knows the name and, weirdly, it goes with the rugged exterior.

It's entirely too fortunate that Bucky needs food and Steve is awesome with food, if he considers all the reviews and praise from critics.

That's why he can't mess this up.

He doesn't mess this up, given how Bucky moans around the first bite. Steve mentally pats himself on the back and stops himself halfway through squirming in his seat with delight. They're at a corner table in the dining room, Steve's favorite one that's always kept clear for friends and family.

"Thi'so'ood," Bucky mumbles with his fork in his mouth.

Steve smiles at him before taking a bite himself.

Two more minutes of inhaling food and coffee later, Bucky's asking questions, Steve replies, then Steve is asking questions himself. Turns out Bucky is a vet and he's entirely too smitten with the way Steve flexes his biceps. Steve snickers at himself. He'd been a sickly child, then started working out after his growth spurt as a way to manage his asthma. Now he looks like this, and both Nat and Clint assure him he's _'drool material'_ to put it mildly, but he's never felt smug about it until now, sitting across from Bucky.

It seems that both of them have baggage and he's surprised at himself for not sugarcoating anything.

Steve feels like this might be _the one_. The one that can be a friend, a partner, a sarcastic little shit just like Steve himself, a brother, and a lover all wrapped into one. Someone he's been wishing for, for a very long time.

If Bucky won't care about watery eyes and excessive dusting, then Steve won't care about scars and occasional nightmares.

He's been too engrossed in the conversation, that's why he notices Peggy way too late. She's standing behind Bucky, a reasonable distance away, and that woman can be sneakier that Nat sometimes, but Steve manages not to flinch at the sign she's holding, proclaiming that it's already noon.

Where did the time go? But Bucky's saying something about his favorite science fiction book, and it turns out to be the same as Steve's...

 _'YOU BETTER GET HIM,'_ Peggy's next sign says.

Steve's heart flips in his chest with nerves. They're clicking, faster than Steve's ever clicked with anyone before, but that's no guarantee that Bucky's willing, or free, or interested in men. As he looks back at Bucky, though, his face is settled to a warm smile, eyes sparkling as he speaks, and frick.

Steve's so gone on him.

This _has_ to work.

Given, Steve's not very good at flirting, but Bucky replies to all of his attempts with increasing amusement, wider smiles and brighter laughs.

The hours pass with the same delicate intangibility as the first part of their conversation. Steve learns a lot about Bucky, and he's everything Steve's ever wanted _and more_. Ok, Steve's getting ahead of himself here, he still needs to put the charms on, finally take that risk after weeks of running around Bucky without saying a word.

He hopes Peggy hasn't taught him wrong while he winks along with a comment about how electric Bucky's eyes feel. It's cheesy, to tell him that his eyes might double as a defibrillator, but Bucky laughs and Steve's heart skips a beat.

~

Late afternoon rolls in, Steve makes them a light meal, and Bucky insists on helping. He's awkward and all wrong in the kitchen, but that just makes Steve fonder.

He'd really love to be able to cook for Bucky tomorrow as well, and the day after, and the day af... Oh, Steve, you fool.

"You sure nobody minds," Bucky says, waving his fork at the empty kitchen.

They're sitting on the corner counter that's usually used for the dirty dishes while they eat from their plates. Steve will scrub that later.

"It's closed today, don't worry."

Bucky hums, chewing. "So what made you decide to become a cook?"

Steve's worked _so hard_ to be called _chef_ , so damned long, a continuous struggle. But hearing _cook_ from Bucky, the way he says it, it sounds domestic and familiar and comforting. He'll still rain hell on anyone else who calls him that. Yet, this day is devoid of the egos of the industry, so Steve doesn't correct him. Instead, he smiles, adds a wink.

"Was hoping to run into you as you passed out from hunger," he jokes.

Bucky laughs, low and, for lack of a better word, it sounds smoky. Steve's a sap, whatever. Nothing will beat the way his heart flutters right now, especially since Bucky leans closer, whispering "mission accomplished."

Oh, this will beat it. Bucky's lips on his.

Yes, a million times yes, and more, and forever, please.

~

Bucky thumbs through his twitter while he waits for Steve. He's not the one to jump in bed at first date, but Steve's _so right_ for him. Their night together has been the best, most awkward, funny, endearing one he's ever had. And they've only made out under the comforter, in Steve's bedroom two blocks away from the restaurant, before they fell asleep in each other's arms. It's only a little past four in the morning and Bucky doesn't have the heart to wake Steve up, so he waits for him, occasionally running his fingers through Steve's hair. It's incredibly satisfying.

The app though, it's buzzing with speculation into the love life of some local celebrity. Bucky sighs and gives in, after two screens of the stuff, and he opens a link to read what the fuss is about. Apparently that restaurant that everyone wants to get into, The Shield, has been closed yesterday without warning. The master chef, one Steve Rogers, has been seen locking lips with a mystery man while leaving the restaurant. Unfortunately, there's no picture, the article says, and Bucky snorts. Sounds more like fortunately. But apparently the adored chef has been dateless for too long and now that there's gossip, everyone with nothing better to do has started commenting on it.

Steve squirms and sniffles next to him.

Wait a minute...

An alarm goes off, incredibly loud, and Bucky almost jumps out of bed.

"Uh, not yet," Steve groans, pushing his face into the pillow as he fishes his phone from the night stand.

Bucky laughs. Of course, Steve would need to wake early if he really is the cook, no, the chef of that place. Bucky's loathed his days in mess rotation during training, cos that meant being in the kitchen as early as 03:00. Or late. Definitely late.

"You're awake," Steve says, surprised, and Bucky shrugs. But then, Steve smiles, blinking sleepily. "Morning."

"Morning, chef Ken," Bucky returns.

Another groan, but Steve pulls on Bucky's sleeve. "If you kiss me, I'll feed you," he says.

Bucky leans in, pecks at his lips. "I want pancakes."

"No, Barbie, no."

Another peck. "Yes."

"No, I'll make you something better," Steve counters.

Bucky can't keep the smile off his face.

"Already have something better," he whispers, the ultimate sap, because he can, before he kisses Steve again.

~

They go running at three instead of eight, and Bucky wouldn't wake that early for anyone.

Except for him.

His partner, and lover, and brother, and friend.

And sarcastic little shit.

~End~

 


End file.
